Sweet Perfect Storms

I love a rainy night, when the thunder thumps and the lightning flashes, I love the sweet smell of the air as the fresh water pours out of the heavens, and the sound of the splash as the drops pour to the ground, the night surrounds me like the comforter himself.

I am not afraid, I feel the sovereign father at work, the weave of the fabric in my bed is soft against my skin, the world past my storm goes away. Pure relaxation at its best. A wall of water surrounds my house creating a curtain of privacy that is long overdue.

My senses are alive with the smell of the clean night, I hear the crack of the old tree, over on the hill that has been waiting for the storm, longing so it could finish it’s fall and finally rest upon the ground and create a new home for another creature until it is picked up.

The lighting flashes, lighting the rain with all of its color and wilderness, the woods below the house sparkle with every drop, my sight is blessed with the beauty of clean purity illustrated by flashes of light and color. As my eyes rest closed and my lids filter the light show of beauty.

My senses can taste and smell the water that they hear and see without touching a single drop. The taste is cold, sweet and satisfying, the Father has held the world still for the pleasure of those who listen and spoken to calm hearts, making the night is perfect.

No two storms are ever exactly the same, God does not make repetitious storms or lives. We do that to ourselves. However he does allow us a good storm once in a while to clean things up again.


Dumas Gandy

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